


Home

by Handle (Radically_Dreaming_Diri)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:59:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radically_Dreaming_Diri/pseuds/Handle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Home!AU explores the Pines Twins as victims of child abuse in a disintegrating home life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a second posting of the fic of the same name from my tumblr (handleonthescandal.tumblr.com)  
> Ratings may change, though it's unlikely, and any future nsfw chapters will be noted as such.

“What are _you_ doing?” Dipper froze at the venomous sound of his mother's voice. She sounds like she's been crying, and maybe a bit drunk. Dipper's eyes darted, looking for an escape, some reasonable excuse to leave, _now_.

  
“I, uh... homework.” Dipper offered weakly, indicating his backpack. He was just getting home from school, maybe she would buy it, and leave him alone. Dipper took a few tentative steps toward the stairwell, toward his room, and silence, and freedom.

  
“Like you do homework,” His mother spat, her eyes narrowing. She snatched at a nearby wine bottle, but missed. She tried again, more angrily, missing again, which only served to anger her more. The third time, her aim was off just enough that her knuckles struck the wine bottle, sending it off the table in a spray of red wine, and a litany of swear words erupted from Dipper's mother. He didn't know what they were, he wasn't listening. Dipper took the distraction as an opportunity, and slipped up the stairs as fast as he could, careful not to make any noise as he climbed the stairs, or as he dashed down the hall. Dipper opened, and closed, the door to his destination as quietly as he could, and then, stopping to make sure that his mother wasn't shouting for him, just shouting in general, he dropped his backpack on Mabel's floor before crossing the room and sinking into a rickety old chair, sitting in front of an equally rickety, equally old desk.

  
He had hid in here because Mabel's door didn't whine like Dipper's did, her floorboards didn't creak, or, at least, not where their parents could hear. Dipper cast a furtive look over to his backpack. His mother had been right, he had no homework to do, it had all long since been done in class. Regardless, his backpack did have something he needed. Dipper took off his shoes, carefully depositing them near the door, then, confident that he was being quiet enough, padded back over to his backpack. He quickly dug out a cell phone, this time depositing his bag on Mabel's chair, he returned to lie down on her bed. Dipper stopped before he reached his destination, taking the time to draw the curtains, long since lined with trash bags to keep out light, a decision Mabel deemed to be vital to any of her glow-in-the-dark projects, of which there were many.  
With the door closed, and the homemade blackout curtains in place, the only light in Mabel's room came from the soft glow of a string of lights wrapped around her headboard, one of many, but it seemed to be the only one on. Dipper's breath caught, and he stared at them for several seconds. It's a good thing he had come in here. If their father had gotten home and seen these lights on, with no one in here... Dipper suppressed a shudder, and laid down carefully on Mabel's bed, pulling out his phone, and winced at the screen, overly bright in this dark room.

  
Dipper smiled at the background, Mabel's face and his own grinning back up at him from the other side of the screen, perfectly placed to appear though they were peeking at him through a wall of apps. Double checking that his ringer was off, (an unnecessary action, as Dipper _never_ turned the volume up on his phone,) Dipper immediately began composing a text to Mable.

  
“ _Hey, mom's on the warpath, maybe take the long way home from school?_ ” Dipper sent his text, and sighed, wondering if he should take his own advice. He might be able to sneak out, now while his father was still gone, and, with a little luck and careful timing, he could meet up with Mable, and they could stay gone until their mother had fallen asleep. Dipper rose halfway to a sitting position on the bed, staring at the door, before slowly sinking back down and rolling over. It wasn't worth being caught in another tirade. He'd just wait on Mabel here. Dipper relaxed, closing his eyes. All of the daily tension seemed to flow out of him as he took a deep breath of his sister's scent. She always had this calming effect on Dipper, and, with his eyes tightly shut, he could imagine that she was already home, chatting animatedly about her day, prizing the few, boring details about his from Dipper. He smiled at the fantasy, average though it was, it was exactly what he wanted. Dipper's breath became deeper and more rhythmic, and before long, he had drifted off to sleep and pleasant dreams.

  
Dipper jerked awake as his phone vibrated, where it was nestled into his chest. He rubbed a bleary eye, mashing his thumb on the text notification of his phone.

  
“ _Sure thing, brotato._ ” Dipper's eyes rolled at what had to be his sister's dumbest nickname yet. “ _We're just finishing up with the props. Let me know when to come home._ ” Dipper texted his assent, and strained his ears, listening to see if the house had grown too loud or too quiet while he was asleep, both of which were warning signs. Deciding that everything was clear, Dipper shut his eyes again, determined to finish his dream.

  
In his dream, Dipper was happy. He was happy, and Mabel was happy, and their parents were strangely absent, though this didn't seem to concern dream-Dipper or dream-Mabel very much. They were living in what appeared to be an amalgamation of the Mystery Shack, and a local ice cream parlor with a kindly old owner that sometimes gave Dipper and Mabel free sweets. They were sharing a comically large banana split, and reviewing blank pieces of paper, that, according to dream-Mabel, were college applications. A knot of anxiety twisted in Dipper's gut. They were too young to go to college, they didn't have to worry about that for another few years, and, besides, hadn't their parents all but made it clear that they weren't going?

  
Dipper's anxiety was punctuated by a peal of thunder, which caused him to look around in confusion. The skies in dreamland were warm and sunny, not a cloud to be seen. So, why was there thunder? Dream-Mabel chided him for his nervousness, scooping up some ice cream in her spoon and, with deliberate aim, flicked the glob of ice cream onto the nearest application, which seemed to disintegrate into mush at the touch of ice cream. Mabel had loaded another shot into her spoon, and was aiming at the next application, which dream-Dipper barely managed to shield in time. What was she doing? Didn't she know that was their only way out? And why was there thunder again? Mabel had loaded her spoon again, this time aiming at her own applications. _No_! She couldn't! They _had_ to get out! Dipper all but leaped across the table, trying to protect the blank application.

Dipper shot bolt upright in bed, his chest was heaving, and he was covered in sweat. Mabel jerked from her position at her wardrobe, petrified shock etched on her face in the dim glow of the string of lights wrapped around her bed.

  
“Mabel?” Dipper croaked. He shook his head, trying to brush away the last of the sleep. He couldn't remember his dream, though it felt like he was having a nightmare. He could hear thunder in the distance, and apparently it had started to rain while he was asleep. His sister looked soaked, even in the dim light.

  
“Jeez, broski.” Mabel laughed weakly. “What's with the scare tactics? I make it all the way upstairs without a peep, and then _bam_!”

“Sorry about that,” Dipper grumbled, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. He fumbled around in the darkness until his hands secured the switch on another string of lights. Dipper suppresses the urge to shiver as thunder claps outside. The battering rain against the window, and the regular crash of thunder did nothing to ease the ominous feeling in his gut. Dipper tried to brush it off as a side effect of whatever nightmare he was having, and turned back to look at his sister. She must not have come home as soon as the rain had started, because she was well and truly soaked. She had a pair of sweatpants fished out, and was lifting a sweatshirt out of a drawer when Dipper had startled her.

“You want me to leave?” He asked, tentatively glancing at the door. He could barely make out the television over the rain from downstairs, which signified that their mother was still awake. Apparently Mabel had been rained out of whatever hideout she had holed up in.

“Nah, no need, just turn around.” Dipper laid back down, rolling over until his face was buried in one of his sister's many pillows. He listened to her quietly shimmy out of her dripping cloths, and the resulting wet _plop_ of them hitting the floor. Pressure on the bed soon indicated that she had changed, and Dipper rolled back over to see his sister grimace at the door.

“So,” Dipper asked, stretching out languidly on her bed. “How's things?”

“I managed to sneak in okay, but she's still going strong in there.” Mabel looked down at her brother, still curled up under her blanket. Her face brightened as she looked down, all worry or concern about their mother seeming to evaporate. “We're almost done with the props for the play, and we still need someone to play Benedick.” Mabel dropped off at the sound of Dipper groaning.

“How many times are you going to ask me to be in that play, Mable?” Dipper grumbled.

“How many times until you say yes? _Boop_.” She countered, poking him lightly in the cheek. Dipper swatted at her hand, but Mable only redoubled her efforts, poking her brother quickly giving way to tickling him. The contest was short, but intense, quickly devolving into gales of suppressed laughter, as Dipper attempted to crawl, gasping, away from her grasp.

“Damn, please, Mable, stop! I give, I give.” Dipper demanded, trying to crawl further away from his sister.

“I'm sorry, Dip, who are you asking? Mabel's not here right now.” Demanded Mabel, unrelenting in her onslaught.

“Please, Alpha Twin?” Dipper tried again and, much to his relief, Mabel relented.

“But seriously,” Mabel continued, once Dipper had resumed his seat on the bed. “You don't have to play a part to be a part of the play. We have lots of other things to do. You could help me with props!” Mabel beamed at the idea.

“That's really not my thing, Mabel.” Dipper personally had no qualms about staying out of the house with his sister, and some school production would certainly keep them busy, but Dipper had long ago resolved to always get home before his sister, just in case things in the house were especially bad. Today would have been a perfect day for it, hanging out, painting (judging from the stains on Mabel's soaking clothes) with a handful of other kids, just like normal people, then Dipper and Mabel could have raced the rain home. Neither one of them would be worried to make too much noise, neither would be straining their ears for the slightest hint that their father had returned home. But such things were for normal people, and, as much as Dipper could muster, for Mabel. If that meant coming home strait after school to test the waters, that's what he was going to do.

“Then why do you always look so sad when you tell me no?” Asked Mabel.

“Come on, Mabes, drop it. Do you have any homework?” Dipper shifted on the bed, turning his back on the conversation, and flipping on a lamp on the nightstand, providing a more homework worthy light source.

“Yeah,” Mabel sighed, defeated. She picked up her backpack from the floor, and began rummaging through it, producing crumpled up pieces of paper, endless sheets of stickers, a half-eaten package of gummy koalas, a rainbow of colored pencils, a few tubes of paint, a bedazzled phone case, and, finally, a notebook stuffed with paper, and a few textbooks. She opened one, leafing through the pages until she found what appeared to be a half finished assignment. Dipper looked over her shoulder and smirked.

“Oh that's easy, you'll be finished with that in no time.” He commented, absently picking up one of her other textbooks, and thumbing through it.

“So you say, mister super advanced math.” Mabel countered, looking glumly down at her homework. “I just don't get this stuff like you do.”

“Eh, you're better at it than you give yourself credit for. Come on, I'll help.”

Mabel finished the first two problems with minimal assistance, but a peal of thunder, and a slamming door caused them both to cringe. They both stopped, silent, straining their ears, and sure enough, the sound of their parents, already bickering, wasted no time filtering up through the floor. They stayed quiet, Mabel's homework forgotten, listening to their parents arguing from downstairs. Mabel fidgeted at her desk, while Dipper stretched back out on the bed, sliding back under Mabel's blanket. The twins both gave each other weak, reassuring smiles that didn't quiet reach their eyes, and they both focused on staying quiet and still.

  
The yelling was getting louder, they could hear stomping. Their father was coming upstairs. The twins both tensed at the realization.

“DIPPER!” Their father shouted down the hall. They could already hear the door to Dipper's room slamming against a wall. Dipper made to rise, sitting up in bed, sliding the blanket off of him, but he wasn't fast enough for his father. In the next moment, Mabel's door was flying open, their father bursting into the room. He pointed an accusatory finger at Dipper.

“You come when I call, boy.” Their father growled. Mabel found herself staring at her socks. She had a hard time looking at their father, especially when he was yelling at Dipper. She had yet to master keeping anger out of her eyes, and their father didn't take that very well. Dipper, however, sat up straighter.

“Yes, sir.” Dipper replied automatically, and Mabel's heart sank. She didn't even have to look up. It was robotic, dead-eyed Dipper sitting on her bed. She hated seeing that Dipper, and he always seemed to come out whenever their father was around.

“Well?” Their father demanded. Mabel didn't look up. Dipper didn't look away.

“Sir?” Dead-eyed Dipper replied.

“Well what possessed you to leave your fucking bike in the middle of the fucking driveway?” Their father snapped. Mabel's breath caught in her throat. She had borrowed Dipper's bicycle while they were at school. She had forgotten it outside, trying to get in out of the rain.

“I-” Mabel began.

“I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again.” Dead-eyed Dipper cut Mabel off. She shot an apologetic look at her brother, who was staring back at their father, his face passive, his eyes registering no emotions. Dipper made to rise, sliding in to his shoes, then stepping out of the door when their father made room for him. Dipper stopped outside in the hallway, staring at the back of his father's head. Dipper looked back and forth between Mabel, and their father, who hadn't moved to leave Mabel's room.

_Just go!_ Mabel shouted mentally. _I'll be fine._

Dipper turned then, shuffling down the hall, until he was at the top of the stairwell, and started griping under his breath, just loud enough for Mabel and their father to hear.

  
“What?” Snapped their father, turning and immediately striding from Mabel's room, advancing on the teenager. Mabel could hear dead-eyed Dipper's apology cut short in a gasp of pain, but their father never returned to Mabel's room. She sat, fighting back tears, listening to her father stomping back down the stairwell.

“If I catch that bike in the driveway again, boy, I'm going to break it over your fucking head!” Their father shouted over the din of another crash of thunder. Unable to restrain herself any further, Mabel sank into her own bed, in the same spot Dipper had abandoned. She pressed her face hard into the pillow as she let out a frustrated groan. Dipper to the rescue, again. Why couldn't she ever stand up for herself, or, more importantly, for her brother. It was always Dipper, coming to the aid of poor little Mabel, and here she was, letting him take the fall for her again.

Mabel's mental rant cut short at the sound of their father's voice, complaining loudly that there was no beer in the house, that their mother was too drunk to function ( _Ha! That's rich,_ ) and that dinner still wasn't finished. He proclaimed that he was going to solve one of those problems, and that the other had better be rectified when he returned. Mabel paused, listening, waiting for the familiar sound of a slamming door, of a car cranking in the drive, and pulling away, before she, as quietly as she dared, slid out of bed and down the stairwell. Dipper was apparently still outside, and their mother appeared to be dozing on the couch. Mabel stole her way into the kitchen, and set about pulling food out of the refrigerator and pantry. By all appearances, they were eating spaghetti.

In short order, Mabel had a pot of noodles boiling when she heard the front door slam shut again. She froze, until she heard the unmistakable sound of her brother bounding up the stairs two at a time. She smiled warmly, continuing with preparing the food, sliding garlic bread in the oven, occasionally stirring the sauce, humming to herself as she cooked. With their mother unconscious, and their father gone, it was simple for Mabel to imagine that her brother was the only other person in the world, that she was just cooking a meal for the two of them, and they could share it around the dinner table, laughing without worry, talking about their days, feeling free to do whatever they wanted. Mabel smiled warmly at the thought, her fantasy only broken slightly when she pulled out three sets of dishes instead of two.

Dipper came when called, Mabel taking extra care to call as sweetly as possible to avoid any undue stress, and the two ate, quickly and quietly. Dipper had changed out of his newly soaked clothes, and the two of them matched, as Mabel was quick to point out. Her perhaps overenthusiastic excitement at their matching sweatshirts seemed to breathe some life back in to her brother, who smiled along with her, making some sidelong comment about how the both of them looking dumb in monstermon sweatshirts was nothing to brag about, and before long, the both of them were laughing together, cutting up, talking about their day. They both reflected on their past fantasies of the day, smiling inwardly that they had come true.

In short order, the two had finished their meal, and Mabel had tipped the lion's share of the spaghetti onto their father's plate. Well fed, and with extra clean dishes, they both retreated upstairs, exchanging goodnights in the hallway between their doors, both of them in an unspoken hurry to be asleep before their father returned. After a second hug, and a peck on the cheek, Mabel relented and let Dipper retreat into his room, and Mabel slid, somewhat sleepily, into hers. She looked around, warm and well fed, ready for sleep, when her eyes fell on her school books. She grumbled, sitting down in her chair, steeling herself to finish at least part of her homework, but she was quite surprised to see that it had already been finished. Mabel thumbed through her various homework assignments, all pulled out on to her desk, all finished, and a wide smile cracks across her face. Mabel wastes no time stuffing the contents of her backpack back in, she turns off the lamp by her bed, picks one of the many strings of lights surrounding her bed to serve as a nightlight tonight, changes into her pajamas, and slides into bed where Dipper had fallen asleep before, only slightly disappointed that his warmth was gone from the sheets.


End file.
